


Shenanigans

by Cinlat



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, This was a lot of fun to write, What happens when left unsupervised, When the adults are away . . ., general bad behavior, light stripping, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Basically, as with most of my one shots, I was talking with a friend and we wondered what would happen if all the "responsible" members of Havoc were away. Well, now we know. Hope you enjoy this mess, because I certainly did.





	1. Cormac's Debut

**Author's Note:**

> This is sometime after Fynta's promotion to captain but before the events of the Asteroid Prison.
> 
> There are three parts to this. It's one of my older fics that I'd completely forgotten about, so I'm going back over them and checking for continuity and grammar and all that good stuff.

 

 **Coruscant Spaceport  
** **The Thunderclap**

Cormac rummaged around in the cargo hold for something to play with. Fynta had jettisoned all the explosives after that incident with the C2 droid, but he had a private stash that he was sure she hadn't found. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the feisty little captain wasn't watching, Cormac peeled back the loose panel to retrieve the detonite strips. He scowled when the gap came up empty and reached further in. The woman flew like a shabbing maniac half the time, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibilities that his ordinance had slid to the back.

Getting down on hands and knees to shove his arm all the way up to the elbow into the opening, he swore when his hand came up empty. How the hell had she found his hiding spot?

"Lose something?"

Cormac didn't turn, he could hear the smile in Fynta's voice. He knew exactly how she'd be standing too. Probably leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, cheeky grin.

With a sigh, Cormac heaved himself upright and finally faced her. "How'd you find it?"

Fynta's eyebrow shot up, but he wasn't backing down. Cormac put his hands on his hips and loomed over her. The blasted woman's grin just got bigger. "I have my ways."

"Elara." He'd like to say he felt betrayed, but it didn't surprise Cormac one bit that his wife ratted him out. He was breaking the rules and that was simply something she couldn't abide. Normally, he respected it, now, he was mildly annoyed by it.

"She found it?" Vik asked, passing by on his way to the kitchen. The Weequay snorted a laugh, "Told ya'."

Fynta sighed. "Okay, fine. If I take you two babies out for a couple of drinks, will you stop trying to blow holes in my ship?"

Cormac knew what a couple of drinks meant to her, he'd heard all about that time she took Jorgan and Elara out. What they could remember of it, at least, h'd even manage to drag a little bit more out of Jorgan and had looked at the Cathar with renewed respect afterward.

As it stood, they'd been stuck on this rock for a week and a half. Okay, maybe calling Coruscant a rock was a little harsh, but with Elara and Jorgan gone to some officer's conference off world, and Yuun doing whatever Yuun did when he disappeared for days, Havoc Squad was grounded.

Not that it had been Fynta's decision. Cormac had heard Jorgan making her promise not to take on any missions with only half a squad, something that seemed like common sense to everyone except their fearless, Mando leader.

Cormac crossed his arms and looked over Fynta's head at Vik, a guy about the same height as himself, who nodded enthusiastically. "Alright, deal. No more explosives aboard the ship." Cormac held up a finger when she started to speak. "But, you've got to make it worth our while. No ranks, you buy, and we decide where."

Fynta narrowed her blue eyes at Cormac in a wordless challenge and he was sorely tempted to back down. Steeling himself, Cormac held his ground while trying to ignore Vik, who was grinning like an idiot behind her.

"Fine," the captain agreed at last. "Since none of you have any civvie clothes and I'd rather this not go on my record, turn the covers inside out."

Cormac blinked at her for a moment. Part of him not quite believing that she was giving in so easily. Suddenly, he understood. "You're just as bored as we are, aren't ya boss?" He couldn't fight the grin that spread across his face while she stood there trying to act all grown up.

Finally, Fynta relented, dropping her hands to her side. "Out of my fierfeking mind." She spun on her heel and marched into the main room, he and Vik on her tail. Then she stopped just short of grabbing her jacket. "On second thought," Fynta said, cutting her eyes at both of them.

"Oh yeah, I love when she makes that face," Vik said with a feral grin, rubbing his hands together. "Something usually goes _boom_."

If Cormac were honest with himself, that face made him a little nervous. Especially when Jorgan wasn't here to talk her out of whatever was running through her mind to cause it.

Fynta smirked too, pulling out her comm and typing furiously. Within the minute, it buzzed with a reply and her face lit up. Cormac's unease multiplied.

"Change of plans, looks like Jaxo's in town. You boys don't mind making this a double date, do you?"

"Fine," Vik grunted, pulling on his jacket. "Let's meet her somewhere classy, not like that dive you took us to last time?"

"That _dive_ was all that was available since you'd leveled everything else," Fynta reminded him as she flipped her own jacket inside out. The town had been under Imperial occupation and Vik had managed to catastrophically damage every building except the cantina. The man really did have talent.

Fynta tapped her chin, then nodded to herself. "The Dealer's Den is a pretty good first stop, and close to Jaxo's apartment, I'll let her know."

Cormac walked into his room to grab his own cover and paused when his tags slipped from his undershirt. He spun the wedding band around on the chain where it was nestled next to his ID tags. He and Fynta would have each other's backs. She was a loyal woman and her and Jorgan were starting to move things along. Cormac would never be disloyal to Elara, so there was no reason for him to be concerned, right? It was just a couple of drinks to blow off a little steam, Elara wouldn't mind. Vik could do whatever he bloody well wanted.

Opening the door, Cormac met Fynta and Vik in the main room. She scanned his attire to make sure his rank and squad patch were hidden before nodding. "Alright, soldier, let's do this."

* * *

The Dealer's Den was swanky, for lack of a better word. It had flashing lights, dancers wearing hardly anything, and the nice, crisp feel of modern technology. "Now this is what I'm talking about," Vik said as he ambled over to the bar. Cormac made to follow him, but got distracted when a woman called out from behind them.

"Hey, hey! If it isn't my number one sister in arms!" She stopped to clasp arms with Fynta first, then gave Cormac the same measuring look he'd seen Fynta give Jorgan when she thought no one was looking. "Who's this? You didn't trade that cute kitten in for him did you?"

The woman eyed Cormac once more, one hand on her hip and head tilted to the side. She had shoulder length black hair, full lips, and a lot of curves. Her SpecForce jacket was turned inside out to hide her rank and unit, just like theirs. "Then again. . . ."

Fynta laughed. "Ava Jaxo, meet Balic Cormac. Sorry, he belongs to Dorne."

Jaxo puffed out her lips in a sensuous pout. "All the good ones belong to someone." Jaxo's voice slurred, sounding like she might have started the drinks without them.

"No worries, I'll keep you company," Vik added, handing a drink to Cormac while slipping an arm around the new arrival's shoulders. The waitress followed with a tray and directed them towards an empty table. "Don't worry, boss, I put it on your tab."

"Just what every girl wants," Jaxo muttered, pushing Vik away from her. "A Weequay to take home to dad."

"Nu-uh, sweetheart, I don't do parental introductions. You get me for one night, two if you're lucky." The Weequay tipped his glass back and drained half his beer in one gulp.

"Oh," Cormac blurted out without actually meaning to. Now he remembered why her name sounded so familiar. "Elara has mentioned you a couple of times. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Jaxi's expression was a mixture of shock and all out amusement when she looked from Fynta to Cormac, then back again. "Well, isn't he a darling." Then Jaxo lifted her boot onto the table and pulled a couple of credit sticks out of it. "I've got the night off, tomorrow it's back to work and I'll be out of touch for a while, so let's have some fun, shall we?"

Cormac took a cautious step closer to Fynta.

Over the next two hours, Fynta provided an unending variety of drinks that came in all manner of color, size, and strengths, while they each bounced around to the different gambling tables to see if they were lucky. Cormac managed to win a hundred and fifty credits, then immediately lost them, plus forty more on the roulettes. He'd just finished knocking back his fourth Fireball, some sort of spiced whiskey with a little red fruit in it, feeling pretty good about life in general, when the dancers started a new game that both Fynta and Jaxo urged him into. He didn't put a lot of effort into resisting, being swept up in the enthusiastic atmosphere.

All the men were instructed to line up on the catwalk, most of them wearing crooked grins while the dancers explained the rules. Apparently, it was a contest to see who could get the ladies', who'd all gathered around by that point, approval in the form of catcalls and shouts.

One by one, the three dancers in charge of the festivities worked their way down the line, sensuously unburdening the men of their shirts. Each time the women on the floor would hoot and holler based on how much the liked what they saw. Feeling that comfortable warmth and airiness that comes along with intoxication, Cormac was fairly confident about his chances. He knew he was a big guy with a lot of muscle and most ladies liked that sort of thing.

Even through his inebriated state of mind, though, he wasn't comfortable with having any woman other than Elara taking off his clothes. So, he decided it was just better if he did it himself. Holding up a hand when the light blue Twi'lek reached for his jacket, Cormac gave her what he hoped was a dashing smile. Her look of confusion evolved into a sharp toothed grin when he reached for the zipper and slowly slid it down.

The dancer laughed and twirled away from him, signaling to the band, who started a raucous chorus. The women who had gathered around really started shouting then, and Cormac decided to have a little fun with it. He was not a suave dancer, but he could cheese with the best of them. Swaying with the music, Cormac slid his jacket off slowly and tossed it into the crowd. As luck would have it, Fynta caught the thing. He'd probably appreciate that later on.

Someone called out for him to take it all off. Cormac smiled as if he knew where the suggestion had come from and untucked the bottom of his shirt, waving it about teasingly to the appreciative applause of his audience. One of the dancers appeared, shuffling a couple of the other men out of the way, then, putting her hands on narrow hips, nodded towards the pole attached to the stage.

Cormac caught on fairly quickly, and ripped the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. Then grabbing the dancer's pole, he pushed himself off the ground and swung around it four times before coming to a stop on his knees, striking a pose that displayed some of his finer features. The shouting grew louder and Cormac grinned. He'd managed to whip those women into a frenzy; those other blokes didn't stand a chance now.

"We have our winner, ladies!" The light blue Twi'lek snuck up behind Cormac as he was climbing unsteadily to his feet and gave a shove, tipping him forward, sprawling into the waiting mass of females below. It was impressive how much weight that many hands could hold up because he wasn't a light guy and they didn't let him touch the ground. Those groping hands sobered Cormac up pretty quickly and he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking as he tried to disengage as politely as he could. Even spouting that he was a married man didn't dissuade their advances. By the time Fynta and Jaxo rescued Balic, there were credit chips falling down his pant legs into his boots from where they'd been shoved in his waistband.

Fynta stood between him and the rest of the women with her hands on her hips, grinning. Finally, the rest of the crowd got the picture that he was off limits.

Meanwhile, Jaxo paced a slow circle around him with her arms crossed. "Mmm . . . Elara did pretty good for herself." Her voice slurred even more and Cormac shifted uneasily. Was this how Jorgan always felt when Fynta had him in her sights? If so, he'd have to be nicer to the Cathar next time he had the urge to tease him.

Even Fynta's normally sister-like smile suddenly made Cormac incredibly uneasy. He sure hoped that wasn't the same gleam in her eyes that Jorgan saw.

"Here," Vik snorted. Cloth smacked Cormac in the face and he was comforted to find it was his shirt. He couldn't even remember where he'd thrown it. Pulling it awkwardly over his head, Cormac held his hand out for his jacket. Fynta's grin widened when she handed it over.

"This is yours too," she added, holding up one more credit chip.

"Those nice abs of yours scored you the grand prize, big boy, five hundred credits," Jaxo said, glancing over at Fynta, who snickered. He was pretty sure he didn't want to be in on whatever joke they were sharing.

"Buy Dorne something nice," Fynta suggested.

Cormac zipped his jacket back up and downed another ale, something a little lighter than what he had been drinking before. Jaxo stretched with a feline grace, eyeing the two males in their group. "I know another place down the road," she paused and winked, "It's gentleman's night there, maybe we can get the captain up on the stage."

Vik began choking on his drink. "No, absolutely not. I've already been scarred once this evening."

"What about that casino you were telling Jorgan about?" Cormac asked, hoping to settle the two women down a bit by mentioning one of their guys. If anyone could sober Fynta up, it was that grumpy Cathar.

"Not yet, I could use a few more drinks." Fynta paused and cut her eyes over at Cormac, "And games."

Cormac swallowed down the rest of his ale without looking at either women, he was never going to hear the end of this. Then the captain's eyes lit up and that same grin they'd seen on the ship reappeared. "I've got just the place in mind. How's your Mando'a, Cormac?"

Cormac's gut knotted up, but he wasn't sure if it was from fear, or exhilaration.


	2. Aggressive Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More proof that Fynta is not very responsible and should never be left unsupervised.

**Coruscant  
** **Justicar Territory**

"I'm going to introduce you to proper Mandalorian drinks," Fynta explained as they all piled into the taxi. Cormac studied Jaxo briefly, being sure not to linger long enough to give the woman the wrong impression. Thinking back over the evening, he wondered idly if the two women were related. They seemed to think along the same lines, acted identical, and communicated more than one joke at their male counterpart's expense without uttering a word. Then he remembered something Jorgan said once about SpecForce women being insane, and snorted a laugh.

Everyone looked at Cormac and, realizing that his inner dialogue was just that, he switched back to the topic at hand. "They serve those here?"

"Oh yes, if you know where to look," Fynta answered with a wink. Cormac swallowed and wondered if he was prepared for whatever lesson she was planning on teaching them. He'd already made a fool of himself once. Granted, he had won back all the credits he'd loss, plus a profit. So, as long as no one had a holo of his performance, maybe Cormac could forget it happened. Provided Fynta let him, that was.

"Oh, when we get there, keep your hands in sight, they'll be checking for gloves. Those aren't allowed anymore. Too many _incidents_ ," Fynta continued explaining as the taxi dropped into the more seedy district.

"What kind of incidents? Slap fights?" Jaxo asked, pulling her attention from the window back to Fynta.

Fynta's grin widened. "Flamethrowers."

Cormac blinked at her again, truly intrigued. "We don't have any flame throwers, though." If he'd known that was an option, he'd have put in the request a long time ago.

"Yeah, and a damn shame too," Vik grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and settling into the seat while Jaxo scooted further away from him.

"True," Fynta replied, drawing out the word, "But my brother does."

Cormac took a moment to let that sink in, and finally realized what was going on. "Oh, shab." Fynta's grin spread wider, and judging by the expression on Vik's face; the jaw drop, signature stupid Weequay look, he'd figured it out too. "I thought those were illegal on the Core Worlds."

Fynta threw her head back and laughed. "You really think that's going to stop them?"

Even Jaxo looked interested now, dropping her bored, professional bar-hopper demeanor. "Wait, you mean that Mando bar?" A coy glint entered the woman's eyes as she smiled. "I've always wanted to try it, but couldn't get in. You know the password?"

Fynta nodded. "Just watch and learn, kids."

Twenty minutes later they were disembarking a taxi in the Justicar's territory. Cormac had never been down here, but he'd heard stories from Jorgan, who hadn't been all too impressed by what he'd seen. Cormac, on the other hand, thought this place looked like a tight ship for it being just a gang. The place was clean, everyone wore heavy armor, and carried heavier weapons. Rumor had it they even had their own prison in the center of the compound.

Fynta led them through as if she belonged there, nodding to anyone who acknowledged her. Cormac followed her lead, though he felt out of place without his armor, whereas Vik just ignored everyone equally, and Jaxo stared ahead with an expression of grim determination. Cormac wasn't sure if it was because she didn't like the Justicars' gang or because she was finally getting into that damn bar.

Eventually, Fynta stopped outside a little cantina whose windows were completely blacked out. Looking up, Cormac read the sign, "Little Oyu'baat Tapcaf."

Fynta smiled up at the sign lovingly, "The Oyu'baat is the oldest cantina on Mandalore. Thousands of years old. Naturally," she waved her hand towards the building, "It's duplicated everywhere."

Pushing through the door, they were met by two big guys in ripped t-shirts, leg plates, and heavy boots. They looked Fynta over thoroughly, then smiled when she raised an eyebrow at them. Fynta didn't utter a word, just crossed her arms and stared at the men. Eventually, the one on the right snorted a laugh and granted them entrance without requesting Jaxo's claimed password. Cormac noted that neither so much as glanced at he or Vik. He was still new to all this Mandalorian stuff, but he was learning fast and one thing everyone seemed to agree on, was that the women were the scariest. He'd buy that.

Positioning herself between him and Vik, Fynta grabbed their biceps, she couldn't exactly reach either of their shoulders, and steered them to the bar. "Let's see how you boys handle a little ne'tra gal," she said with a wave at the bar tender. He was a grizzled looking man in his fifties, missing an eye and a lot of teeth.

While they waited, Cormac took the place in. It was rustic to the extreme, with wooden planks instead of metal, and the supports painted to look like timber. The atmosphere was dark, and the gentle hum of hushed conversations wafted through the air like a swarm of buzzing insects. It was hot, too, and humid, with a heady smell of blaster oil and beskar.

"Is this place designed after the original?" Cormac asked, turning back towards the bar and leaning his elbows on it. Vik was looking around too, his nose wrinkled in disapproval. The Weequay preferred more modern accommodations and wasn't in the least bit impressed by Mandalorians.

Fynta nodded. "I've only been to the original once, when I turned thirteen. My folks took me there for my first drink."

"Your folks bought you booze at thirteen?" Vik snorted. "Nice."

The barkeep dropped four mugs in front of them and nodded before hobbling off to answer the call of another patron. Fynta split the mugs and lifted hers, "Gal, ori'skraan, riduur, yaim' dab'ika."

Cormac had not idea what the captain just said, but she tipped her head back and downed the inky, black liquid inside, so he did too.

Jaxo hadn't wasting any time reapplying her buzz, her mug was already turned up up as well.

Meanwhile, Vik hesitated. "This looks like bantha dwang," the Weequay complained, sniffing at the contents.

Cormac shut his eyes, Vik's comment not helping him get the ale down as a sticky film collected on the roof of his mouth. The drink was sweet, reminding him of fruit mixed thrown in with a little bit of starship fuel.

When Fynta slammed her mug back down on the counter, her eyes were unfocused. "Not so bad, eh?" She said without the slightest slur. Jaxo was already ordering another one by the time Cormac came up sputtering, from the aftertaste alone.

Cormac prided himself on his alcohol consumption capabilities. But he wasn't so sure this counted. Vik eyed him, then set his untouched mug down and crossed his arms, glaring at the captain with a surly expression.

Fynta burst out laughing and held up four fingers to the barkeep. "No thanks, boss," Cormac made to grab her write." I think that'll be enough for me." He was trying to think of ways to get the taste out of his mouth.

"Quitting already?" Fynta flashed an innocent smile up at him as the old man delivered four glasses, with a slightly orange tinged liquid in them. "That was just to soften you up a little," she said, patting Cormac's stomach with the back of her hand.

Handing each of them a glass, she held hers aloft again, "Kri'gee."

Cormac thought it was some sort of toast until he knocked it back. Red hot flame scorched down his throat, through his chest, and sat like a boulder in his gut. His throat constricted and the man found himself staring at the bar through watering eyes while someone beat him on the back. He was pretty sure it was Fynta, and it sounded like she was laughing.

"Easy there big guy." She was definitely laughing.

Taking a deep breath, Cormac straightened and wiped his eyes. The barkeep was staring at him with a big, gap toothed grin, then winked at Fynta and slapped three more mugs of the black ale on the counter. Vik was wiping his nose when Cormac's vision cleared enough for his to focus on the Weequay.

"What the hell is that?" The man rasped, his voice a lot rougher than usual.

"Kri'gee," Fynta repeated with a shrug. "Too strong?"

Jaxo started laughing, examining her now empty glass. "I want another."

Cormac's body was still on fire, so he grabbed the only thing available to him, that shabbing black ale, and chugged it until his head was swam doubly, and the flames had been quenched. Dropping the mug back to the counter, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You know, once all your taste buds have been burned away, that stuff isn't half bad."

"Lightweights," Jaxo slurred from beside him, he wasn't sure when she'd moved, or when she'd started leaning against him. That Krigee, Keergi, Gree, whatever the shab it had been that he drank, packed a real punch. Cormac swayed unsteadily when Jaxo put a little more weight against him and grabbed the bar for support.

About the time the barkeep was dropping three more glasses of the stuff in front of them, a group of men wandered over. Against his better judgement, Cormac ignored them and tossed back the second shot of gut scorching brew. He was determined to keep up with the boss, despite Jorgan's warnings against it. Cormac's head swam nauseatingly until he chugged more of the ale. It would probably be a good idea to eat something soon.

An irritating beeping sound cleared Balic's head a little, and he realized Fynta was holding her holo. "Wolfe," she answered in her official greeting. Her unshaky, completely sober voice rankled with Cormac. He was sure she'd drank as much as him.

"It's me," Jorgan's image replied. "Just reporting in. We'll be back in roughly eight hours—" Even through the muted, tiny image, Cormac could see the Cathar's brows pull together. "Where are you?"

Fynta raised her mug to the holo and took a swig before answering. "Oyu'baat."

Jorgan put his hands on his hips, "And everyone else?" The Cathar was using his disappointed boss tone, though it never seemed to work on the captain.

Fynta spun the holo around. "Wave to uncle Jorgan, everyone."

Cormac found himself responding with a grin, even though inwardly, he cringed at the thought of the fight that comment was going to conjure up later. Maybe Fynta was a bit sloshed after all. It was hard to tell between drunken snark and normal banter with her.

The men who'd ambled over before, suddenly became interested in the Havoc group. One of them, an average guy with bright, red hair, leaned over the counter. "Where's your armor?"

Fynta leveled the guy with a steely stare before ignoring him and going back to her conversation. "Everyone is accounted for, Cormac even made a profit. You worry too much Jorgan."

"A what—" Jogan's mouth dropped open and Cormac felt the urge to stifle a giggle, meaning he'd definitely had too much to drink. "Fynta, are you drunk?"

The guy who Fynta had been ignoring got up and walked over for a better look at her, clearly pegging her as the boss. The man leaned an elbow on the bar between her and Vik, and looked over her shoulder at Jorgan's image. "This looks like a Republic uniform," he said, picking at the fabric on her shoulder. "Where's your beskar."

Fynta shrugged casually, but Cormac saw a light in her eye that meant she was ready for a fight. "In the wash. Now, back off so I can finish my conversation in peace."

The man snorted. "Never thought I'd see—"

"What?" Jaxo asked, cutting him off mid-sentence. The guy leaned around Fynta to see her, looking mildly amused. "A proper set of women? You know, your chances might improve if you bathed on a regular basis."

Cormac was impressed. Even through her slur, Jaxo had managed to enunciate every syllable to form a cohesive sentence. Which was more than he currently felt capable of.

"What's going on?" Jorgan asked. He didn't sound angry anymore, now it was concern Cormac heard.

The man's jaw clenched, but he didn't lash out at the spunky SpecForce sergeant. Instead, he angled his head to look at Fynta's jacket again, all the while the captain kept her eyes on Jorgan. "Guess I can't be too surprised," the guy said. "Giving the company you've been keeping. You know, I'd be happy to set up a hunting party. I hear Cathar still make challenging prey." His fingers grazed the collar of Fynta jacket where her Republic bagde was hidden.

"Fynta, don't—" Jorgan didn't get the rest of his sentence out and Cormac couldn't react fast enough.

As soon as the redhead's fingers curled around the fabric, Fynta's fist connected with his chin. He staggered backward, then landed on his arse with a grunt. Fynta went after him, leaving Jorgan on the counter shaking his head. Cormac was watching, mouth open, as Fynta landed on the guy's chest and began wailing on him with her fists. One of his buddies moved to intervene and Jaxo intercepted him with impressive speed, until she tripped over her own feet and cannoned into the guy, taking them both to the floor.

"Cormac!" Jorgan's angry growl pulling him from his stupor. The Cathar was still still on the line, holding one hand out as if to say _get in there and fix this_.

"Right!" Cormac grabbed the third guy by his backplate as he rushed in to join the melee, hauling him backwards, and throwing him over the bar. The man, just an average schmuck, started scrambling back over, and Cormac smashed him in the face with his fist, ending the his motivation to help his buddies.

Vik had already snatched Jaxo up and thrown her over his shoulder by the time Cormac turned around. She was kicking and slurring a string of profanities that would have made any naval officer proud.

Cormac grabbed Fynta, pulling her off the guy with one arm around her waist, while using the other to make sure he didn't take any blows in the process. Fynta was spitting curses in Mando'a way too fast for Balic's remedial lessons to keep up with. Meanwhile, the men scrambled to their feet, the one Fynta had taken down was wiping blood from his nose while the other guy was checking to see if he still had all his teeth. As far as Cormac could tell, the third was still napping behind the bar.

When Fynta finally stopped fighting, Cormac released her carefully and took a quick step away back. She stood there, chest heaving, and stared the two men down. The guy with the bloody nose pointed a finger at her, "This isn't over, aruetiise."

Cormac just barely grabbed the captain's arm before she went after him again. When she couldn't advance, her hand went to where her hip holster usually sat. Thankfully, they'd left those on the ship. The two men chuckled and swaggered off, though the one had to keep tipping his head back to staunch the flow of blood. Fynta wrenched her arm away.

"Hut'uun," she spat.

"I think I need to head home," Jaxo mumbled from where she hung limply over Vik's shoulder. She was looking a little green, and Cormac considered suggesting Vik putting her down before she hurled down his back. Then he decided that might be worth seeing and kept his mouth shut.

Instead, he squinted at the patrons, who went on with their business as if the altercation had never happened. Maybe now _would_ be a good time to move on. "How 'bout that 'sino, bossss?"

Fynta blinked up at him and grinned. Cormac realized not all of his words might have come out the way he intended, his tongue felt like it had fallen asleep. "Ca-sin-o," he said again, taking great care to pronounce each syllable.

"Sure, Cormac," Fynta laughed and dropped a few credit sticks on the counter. She had an unending supply of those, not even Jorgan knew where they came from.

_Shab_. Speaking of which, the Cathar was still fuming on the holo. Fynta picked it up and gave the lieutenant a lopsided smile. "Have a safe trip, see you at home." Then ended the call right as he opened his mouth to berate her. She tipped back the rest of her Kri'gee and shook her head. Cormac smiled, she was finally started to feel it.

Vik swore then. "Are you kriffing kidding me?"

Jaxo had found her limit, and it was all over Vik and the floor. Cormac grinned at the Weequay before steering Fynta towards the exit. Jorgan was going to be furious with him for not getting her back to the ship, but honestly, Cormac wanted to see what Fynta was capable of. He would probably regret that in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> The Oyu'baat was an ancient hotel and tapcaf, located on the Outer Rim world of Mandalore. Situated in Mandalore's capital city, Keldabe, the Oyu'baat was the oldest cantina on the planet, open for several thousand years by the start of the Clone Wars. Named for the word oyu'baat, meaning "universe" in the Mando'a language, the time-worn tapcaf served as an unofficial center for the loose government formed by the chieftains of the various Mandalorian warrior clans, who were without formal palaces or designated government buildings. It was not uncommon to find clan leaders among the Oyu'baat's other customers, meeting and brokering deals around the cantina's fire, or over drinks.
> 
> Ne'tra gal, or black ale when translated from the Mando'a language into Galactic Basic Standard, was a traditional Mandalorian alcoholic beverage. Ne'tra gal earned its name from its dark, black coloration, and was a sticky ale with a sweet taste, but not overly strong.
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> Kri'gee was a Mandalorian ale. With a significantly potent alcohol content and a strong bitter taste.
> 
> aruetiise [ah-roo-ay-TEE-say] traitors, foreigners, outsiders (a grave insult when applied to Mandalorians)
> 
> hut'uun [hoo-TOON] coward (worst possible insult)
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Kriff or Kriffing: a vulgar expletive


	3. Wrap Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the conclusion. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this fun little piece of irresponsibility as much as I did.

**Triple Zero**  
**Coruscant Crown Casino**

There was something liberating about the Casino. Fynta had told Cormac three times already what it was called, yet he still couldn't remember. It probably wasn't important. Still, Cormac was starting to feel like himself again and was hoping that Vik was bringing back enough from the bar to alleviate that.

Balic had decided on the taxi trip over (one where Fynta sat in brooding silence for once, while Vik complained about being covered in Jaxo's vomit, and Cormac reeled from the poison at the Oyu'baat) that he was going to figure out just how much alcohol the woman could handle. It had become his mission. Somewhere in the back of his slightly sluggish mind, Cormac realized this was not a fitting goal for a Havoc Squad soldier, but dammit, he really wanted to know.

The air in the casino was cool, and smelled of warm food and fragrant perfumes. Taking a deep breath, Cormac's peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the peeling of bells and the excited shouts of someone winning a lot of credits.

"I'm going to give that one a go," he said, nudging Fynta with his shoulder.

"Don't lose all your hard earned credits," the major offered with a wink. "I'm going to see where Vik wandered off to. I don't like him being out of my sight."

Cormac nodded and ambled over to one of the gambling tables after ordering a few more shots of whatever the bartender suggested. He was past caring what it tasted like. Over the next two hours, he lost a few hands of Sabacc, blew some credits on the slots, and a lot more on Pazaak. "That's enough for me," he grumbled. Then the Dejarik table caught his eye.

The game look simple enough; just beat the other guy's pawn into a pulp before his was, Balic could do that. He'd never been more wrong. Twenty minutes later, Cormac was over two thousand credits in the hole. It was about that time he noticed a steady stream of security guards jogging past. Given that he hadn't seen Fynta or Vik in a while, Cormac figured it might be best to check it out.

There was a crowd gathered around, and Cormac heard the distinctive grunt of a drunken Weequay, then heavy metal striking the ground. Pushing through the crowd, Cormac found that it was, indeed, Fynta and Vik at the center of the disturbance. Five guards formed a half circle around the duo, barricading them from the crowd. Another officer was sprawled out on the floor at Vik's feet, not moving. That's when it struck Cormac what was really wrong with this picture.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. Vik was shirtless. Fynta was standing to the side discussing matters in an animated fashion with one of the ranking officers, in her undershirt, while Vik held her jacket. Cormac's mouth dropped open, not a single scenario entered his mind that didn't end with Jorgan putting a bolt through Vik's skull.

The guard put a finger to Fynta's chest and snarled something that Cormac couldn't hear. He had started moving forward to incept on instinct; Fynta didn't like being touched. To his surprise, she simply held up her hands and nodded when the guard pointed at the door.

After glaring at her for another second or two, the officer turned on the crowd. "Alright, break it up. Get out of here people." More guards arrived to push everyone back, eyeing Cormac with suspicion when he moved towards the other Havoc members, but no one tried to stop him. They were just gathering up their still unconscious buddy when Cormac drew close enough to ask what the hell was going on.

Fynta cut him off with a look and Balic snapped his mouth shut in an act of pure self-preservation. "You're a shabbing di'kut," she growled at Vik, snatching her jacket out of his hand and looking it over.

"What?" The Weequay shrugged. "She said she'd only consider my offer if I lost the source of the smell. You didn't see her boss." He gave a frightfully devilish smile. "She would've been worth it. If that cop hadn't chased her off."

The pieces were slowly falling into place and Cormac wasn't sure the truth was any better than what his imagination had come up with. In his opinion, that poor girl dodged a bolt.

"Alright, back to the ship," Fynta snarled, rescuing Cormac's sanity from traveling down that road any further.

"Come on," Vik complained, spreading his arms out, "You're grounding me?"

"I'm grounding all of us," the major answered, slipping her jacket over her shoulders, and bending over to retrieve something from the floor. When she came up, Fynta was holding a couple of bottles of Corellian whiskey.

"And don't be such a baby," she added with a smile, wagging the alcohol at them.

"You sure know the way to a man's heart," Vik said as he gathered his soiled clothes from the pile by the elevator. "But I'm not putting these back on."

**Republic Military Transport**  
**Inbound to Coruscant**

"Really, sir, you are worrying over nothing."

Jorgan was standing at the viewport overlooking Coruscant as the transport waited for permission to land. They had been in orbit for an hour already, and Fynta wasn't answering her holo.

Dorne stood next to him, trying to talk him out of commandeering an escape pod. "Don't you trust her?"

THe Cathar glanced to his left and raised an eyebrow. "She was in a Mandalorian bar, inciting a fight. That doesn't concern you?" He chose to ignore the sergeant's veiled hint at the new, and uncertain relationship between himself and the captain.

Dorne's graceful features became even more so when she gave him a patient, almost maternal smile. "It's Fynta. I've come to expect a fight from her even without the aid of alcohol."

Jorgan snorted in response, amazed at how his life had gotten to the point where he threw the rules out the window to start an illicit relationship with his CO, who couldn't be trusted not to slug her way out of every situation. And for the most part, he was okay with it.

"Has Cormac answered yet?"

Elara's face fell slightly. "No, I imagine Balic drank too much and fell asleep." She smiled again, and gave Jorgan's arm a pat. "They're fine." The Cathar nodded when it became clear she expected a response, then returned his attention back to the planet below while Elara wandered off to find Yuun.

In battle, having Cormac with Fynta would be a great relief. In a bar, however, Jorgan didn't think the man stood a chance. Plus, Vik was there, and he was pretty sure he'd seen Jaxo dive through his frame of view too. None of them could be trusted to act responsibly while sober.

"Can't this damn transport land any faster?" Jorgan growled, a new wave of anxiety washing over him.

* * *

Two hours later, the Thunderclap was finally in view. It wouldn't do for Jorgan to show too much haste in getting to the controls to lower the ramp, but he was sorely tempted to. The hydraulics too an eternity to lower the ramp, and eventually, Jorgan got tired of waiting. Hopping onto the ramp, he stormed into the ship expecting to be met with a hail of slurred excuses. Instead, it was empty.

Dorne passed by with a calm air of certainty, and slipped into her room to unpack her bag. Yuun did the same, heading off to the right towards the barracks, seemingly unaware of the tense atmosphere Jorgan was projecting around him like a storm.

"Sir," Dorne called from her room, only the slightest hint of alarm in her clipped voice. "Balic is not here."

"Yuun's dwelling is likewise empty, Lieutenant," the Gand reported, returning from the barracks.

Jorgan was about to turn back towards the door, holo in hand, when an awful sound caught his attention. He paused and listened. It was coming from Fynta's room. Hooking the communications device back to his belt, Jorgan put his hand on the partially ajar door and slid it the rest of the way open. What met him inside slammed his brain to a dead stop, and Jorgan couldn't remember what he'd come in here to do.

He'd found them, all three, spread out on Fynta's bed, while Sabacc cards littered the floor around it. Vik and Cormac were sprawled out lengthwise, while Fynta laid across them on her back, her head on Cormac's chest and her legs propped on Vik's bare stomach. It wasn't until Dorne gasped, that Jorgan remembered there were others around him. Even Yuun's slightly faster blinks seemed to indicate his surprise.

Regaining all his senses at once, Jorgan reacted. He stomped over to the bed, ignoring the fact that what he was about to do would likely cause him bodily harm, and scooped Fynta up, throwing her over his shoulder.

"What in all the seven Corellian hells is going on here," he roared.

Cormac leapt to his feet, staggering in his haste to locate something, though his eyes were still unfocused. At least, until they found his wife. Dorne was standing with her hands on her hips, lips pressed into a thin line. He froze like a frightened animal, still bent at the waist, as his mouth worked soundlessly. When Cormac found his words, they were slurred, and not much better. "It was just for the money, I swear," the big man blurted before Elara cuffed him on the ear.

"What money? Where are your shoes?" She launched into a torrent of questions in an angry Imperial accent that seemed to get thicker the more she went on. Cormac ducked out of the room like a beaten akk dog, slinking across the main area to the room he shared with Elara, then the door slammed shut.

Fynta still hadn't moved, which was disturbing. Jorgan had fully expected her begin struggling and swearing as soon as he touched her. Instead, the captain hung limp. Jorgan was about to set her down to make sure she was still breathing, when the Weequay stirred.

"Get lost," Vik muttered, rolling over onto his stomach and continuing his snoring. That was the most disconcerting part of all of this. Tanno Vik, in Fynta's bed, wearing only his pants.

Jorgan wasn't tolerating it from the Weequay this time. Pulling his sidearm, he fired two shots into the pillow next to Vik's head. The man was on his feet in an instant, spewing curses in Huttese, Rodese, and Ryl. Acting on instincts born in the slums of Nar Shaddaa, Vik swung for the first humanoid he saw. Jorgan ducked out of the way and put his boot forcefully to the Weequay's lower back, sending him stumbling from the room and out into the main area. Jorgan waited until he climbed slowly to his feet, and watched him sway side to side as he disappeared towards the barracks, still grumbling.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Fynta was still draped over his shoulder, but Jorgan could feel her elbow propped against his back, and she sounded completely lucid.

His relief at knowing she was still alive quickly evaporated, being replayed by annoyance. "You could have said something," the Cathar grumbled, flinging her back onto the bed, and walking over to the door to look out into the rest of the ship.

"You had it handled," Fynta commented, propping up on her elbows to look at him. She wasn't quite smiling, her eyes were harder than he'd seen them in a while and that bothered him as well. Maybe the alcohol was affecting her after all. He still didn't remember much from that night before the Tatooine mission.

Shutting the door, Jorgan rounded on her. "What were you thinking? Why were they in your bed?" There were a lot of implications, and he didn't like any of them. "And where are Vik's clothes?"

Fynta sat up and looked over the side of the bed before raising an eyebrow at him. "Looks like we were playing Sabacc." She yawned and stretched, "Or at least, planned to, the got distracted."

Jorgan snarled deep in his throat. "And Vik's clothes?"

A feral smile split her face, one Jorgan didn't like one bit. "I threw them out, I think."

The Cathar realized a fraction of a second before he lost his temper that Fynta was trying to get a rise out of him. That wasn't normally her habit, not with him. Instead of responding, Jorgan balled up his fists, flung open the door, and stormed out. He needed some time to clear his head, and she needed to sober up.

Jorgan gave himself an hour in the armory to check over the weapons, relieved to find that they were all accounted for. The sound of laughter drew his attention back to the main room, and Jorgan found the rest of Havoc sitting around as Cormac gave an animated account of the night's events. Everyone was properly dressed and clean, the smell of soap still lingering in the air.

Cormac had just gotten to the part about Jaxo vomiting all over Vik, when he noticed Jorgan's entrance. The man paused momentarily, until Fynta patted the chair next to her, "Come on Lieutenant, we're getting to the good part."

Taking the offered seat with a wariness that made Fynta grin, Jorgan listened, as Cormac went on to tell about the casino, the cops, and the ride home where he apparently spent the rest of his credits on piles of sweets and the deck of cards that they spilled all over the floor as soon as the box opened. He didn't remember anything after that.

Elara shook her head, doing her best to hide a smile, behind her upraised hand. Eventually, she smiled. "Well, I'm glad you had fun, at least."

"Don't encourage them, Dorne," Jorgan grumbled, slouching down in the chair.

There was a challenging glint in Fynta's eyes when she turned them on him. "Fine, I'll just buy a pole for the ship and we can stay in next time."

Jorgan sat bolt upright, mouth hanging open. "A what?"

Cormac managed a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."


End file.
